With the fire still lit, she used the iron spade to shovel the ash. She reached in, feeling the heat pulsing against her skin. She pinched the ash from the fireplace and raced over to the vial, her fingertips burning.

She brought the white candlestick to the vial and melted the wax to seal it shut. She closed her eyes but remembered she had not yet thought of an object. She rolled her eyes at her foolishness.

She rubbed her eyes and tried to ignore the tiredness brewing inside her. She moved her left hand from her face and stared down at her ring finger—

She brought the vial to her lips and whispered her missing object.

She trailed back upstairs into her bedroom. Bethan crawled back under the safety of her covers and slid the little vial under her pillow. She closed her eyes, praying to the Trine that it worked.

Sleep found her quickly.

***

‘Bethan, you’re not listening to me,’ Tharin spoke with his teeth bared.

Bethan felt like a stranger in her own body, watching the scene unfold before her, unable to control or speak her mind.

She felt the heavy beats of her heart and the tightness in her chest. She stood in Tharin’s living room, the back of her knees touching the edge of his black leather lounge.

He marched towards her from where he stood, and Bethan felt an urge to step back and run, but she was trapped in the corner near the L-shaped lounge. He grabbed her arm, and she tried to squeeze out but couldn’t.

‘Can you even hear me? Dumb witch.’ He released her, throwing his arms in the air. His hair was shaved back then, and it revealed a prevalent vein on his forehead that beaded out whenever he was angry.

‘I am listening to you,’ she said softly. ‘I always listen to you.’

Maybe if she spoke calmly, he would stop yelling.

He scoffed and turned away from her, making a beeline to his bar cart; he poured some brown liquid into a tumbler glass. Bethan breathed.

‘I can’t believe he offered you the job before me,’ he said, speaking into his glass.

‘I’m sure Edington had his reasons, and it shouldn’t matter. I declined, and he offered it to you anyway,’ she told him.

Deep down, she had wanted to accept it, but she knew how much it meant to Tharin. He worked his whole life to get him to be a minister. She was only a novice historian.

‘Yes, and I’m sure I’ll look like a fool now to the other ministers because I was the second option.’ He shook his head away to avoid eye contact as if disgusted from looking at her.

She wrapped her arms to hug herself. She gasped when she realised she was clutching onto a small velvet box. He stomped back to her, shooting her a crazed glare.